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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28240089">Fire In Bone</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/getoffmyhead/pseuds/getoffmyhead'>getoffmyhead</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Men's Hockey RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alpha Sid, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Established Relationship, Hooking Up Between Periods, M/M, Omega Geno</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 01:26:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,889</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28240089</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/getoffmyhead/pseuds/getoffmyhead</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Going into heat during the Stanley Cup Finals, Geno only needed a way to get through one game, so he turned to Sid. If Sid could get him off between periods, Geno was certain he could resist his greater need until they were done.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sidney Crosby/Evgeni Malkin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>132</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Sid Geno ABO Fest</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Fire In Bone</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For prompt 64: geno’s heats come on fast and with no warning, sometimes in the middle of a game, so once in a while sid can help a buddy out and slip geno some fingers to just get him through to the intermission</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Come on, come on," Geno griped like Sid wasn't riding his heels to get off the ice and down the tunnel. "Hurry."</p><p>"I'm going as fast as I can," Sid said with a bite in his voice. He wouldn't normally be so impatient, but the competition of the game shaved away all the trappings of his composure, simmered him down to a condensed base of raw emotion. This was the problem—one of the problems—with their plan. Geno wanted Sid to take care of him. Sid wanted to chop Pekka Rinne in half.</p><p>Geno didn't see any problems, too focused on his own rising need to care about Sid's preoccupied mind. He had nearly knocked an iPad out of Sid's hands when he crashed into him on the bench before his last shift, completely ignored Sid's side-eyed glare in response, and tapped his knee—the signal. They were doing this.</p><p>Most of the way through the second period, Sid had allowed himself to think they wouldn't need to. When Sid had raised his eyebrows down the bench after the first, Geno had firmly ignored him. Sid thought that the heat of the game had quelled Geno's other urges, that they might get through it without resorting to extremes. </p><p>Geno picked up the pace down the tunnel. Sid forced himself to take a deep breath and let it out slowly to release some tension, wrenching on the internal switch to get his hockey brain turned off. He had promised he would do this for Geno—he had to. He dropped his stick against the tunnel wall for an equipment manager to grab and winced at the clatter when it fell behind him.</p><p>Geno spun around, glaring. "What you doing? Let's go."</p><p>"You want me to do it right here?" Sid snapped, the fires of his temper flaring before he could snuff them out.</p><p>Behind Sid in the tunnel, a chorus of teammates put up protests. If he weren't quite so mentally invested in other matters, Sid might have a thought to spare to be insulted. They didn't really think he would drop trou and fuck Geno right in the tunnel, did they?</p><p>As Geno resumed his headlong flight, Sid caught a big whiff of him. His stomach swooped, the fierce heat in his blood from their on-ice battle replaced with something just as primal—lust. Okay, Sid thought as he tipped his chin up to retain the delicious smell, maybe their teammates had some cause for concern. If Geno got his breezers down on center ice, Sid wasn't wholly confident in his ability to resist.</p><p>"Sid," Geno called again over his shoulder. His voice was more a whine than a demand this time, needy. He had been feverish with pre-heat all day, rubbing his body against Sid's like a cat when they woke up in the hotel. By now, Sid thought Geno must be deep into it, desperate for a knot he couldn't have.</p><p>Sid shivered at the thought as they turned the corner away from the visitors' locker room and dove through the door of the empty physio room the team had discretely prepared for them.</p><p>"If you gotta do it, do it in there," Sully had grumbled before tossing up his hands and striding away. He wanted nothing to do with their plan. The less he heard about it, the happier he would be.</p><p>Sully had shown them the designated space three hours before the game, five hours ago now. Even then, only in pre-heat, Geno had gazed into the empty room like he wanted to spread his legs in there.</p><p>"We could do it once with knot," Geno had suggested when they were alone, eyebrows raised in questioning. Hoping. "Before game."</p><p>Sid's mind and heart took off running in different directions. His heart wanted—desperately—to take care of Geno. God, he wanted to take care of him all night, fill him up. But this wasn't just a normal game. If it were, maybe Sid could risk messing up his pregame. Hell, if it were, Geno would have been willing to take the night off instead of trying to play through his heat, sweating pheromones into all of his pads. Sid would be able to smell it every time they played for a month.</p><p>Except, they wouldn't be playing for a month. If the Penguins did their job right, they wouldn't be playing again until October.</p><p>With the stakes of the game in mind, Sid had ignored Geno's tempting suggestion. Instead of knotting him like they both wanted, he had shoved Geno into the room and sucked him off instead. He knew that wouldn't mess up their pregame—they had done it plenty of times before.</p><p>"Sid."</p><p>Geno's pitiful tone broke through Sid's reflections. Geno was chest-first against the cold wall, rubbing his stubbled cheek against the cinderblock surface while he pawed at his breezers. He made an aggravated sound when he couldn't get them off.</p><p>"Calm down. I got you," Sid said, approaching to press himself along Geno's back. He felt it when Geno pushed his ass out, naturally presenting for him.</p><p>Sid reached around Geno and yanked the tie on the front of his breezers. They came loose, and Geno shoved them over one hip immediately. Sid helped him push down the other side so that they fell around his calves.</p><p>The musky scent of Geno's slick checked Sid harder than any of the Preds had managed. The jolt of sudden arousal unstuck the switch in Sid's brain. Any residual irritability from hockey dimmed as Sid devoured inhale after inhale of Geno's smell.</p><p>"Fuck," Sid whispered, dizzy with the smell of omega heat. Reverently, he followed the path of Geno's breezers down to the floor until he was kneeling eye-level with Geno's ass. His hands shook as he carefully pulled down Geno's base tights, easing the cup over Geno's dick. It sprang free, rock hard and suffering.</p><p>"That can't feel good, huh?" Sid said absently, eyes on the only prize he cared about. Geno's ass was shiny all over with sweat, but between the cheeks, he was iridescent with slick. He must have been wet all period to get this soaked—maybe all game.</p><p>"Twelve minute, Sid, hurry," Geno borderline sobbed. His attitude was so different from a period ago, when he had ignored Sid's offer, silently insisting he could make it. "I need, please. I go crazy. You said."</p><p>"I know, shh," Sid soothed, cupping Geno's cheeks reverently. When he pulled them apart, Geno's hole was pink and wet and swollen with arousal. "I know what I said."</p><p>Sid remembered perfectly. Geno had woken him up at dawn, rubbing the length of his body against Sid while he reached inside his boxers for his dick. Geno barely let Sid get his eyes open before he clambered up to his hands and knees, presenting his wet hole with thighs spread wide. Sid had caved immediately to Geno's pre-heat desperation, fucking him blearily into the hotel mattress. He had barely pulled back in time to squeeze his knot in his fist instead of shoving it into Geno. They didn't have time for a knot.</p><p>It was the first time Sid felt a pang of worry. They wouldn't have time for a knot before the game, and Geno would only get more desperate. His heat would come on, and he would lose focus for anything but getting Sid inside him, getting filled up so he could satisfy his body's urge to mate. Sid didn't know how Geno could possibly play with his mind occupied elsewhere.</p><p>Evidently, Geno had been thinking the same thing. With a contemplative face half-buried in a pillow, he asked—demanded—that Sid help him. "I think you can get me off once in game."</p><p>"In the game? How the fuck—"</p><p>"Between period. Maybe two time. You use fingers to fuck me, let me come. It will be like snack. I can keep back these feelings. I can play."</p><p>"You really think that will hold you off?" Sid asked doubtfully. Once Geno's heat started, he got pretty spaced out. But, then again, he usually spent his heat grinding on Sid's knot and dozing in a soft bed, not fighting for a championship. Normally, he didn't <i>need</i> to focus his mind on anything other than sex.</p><p>"Yes. It work." Geno sounded sure.</p><p>"If you just need to get off, why do you need me? Why don't you just jerk off?"</p><p>Geno had rolled his eyes at that. "Sure, maybe get some other alpha to smell?"</p><p>It was a targeted attack, perfectly aimed. Sid bristled, muscles tensing for an imaginary fight before he caught Geno's pointed eyebrow raise. Then he lowered down in the bed with a sheepish grin. "Okay, point taken."</p><p>"So. You do it?"</p><p>Geno's plan was a serious divergence from the system that had gotten them to the Stanley Cup Final. Sid hesitated, his mind working for some other option, before he caved. Between possibly losing game 6 and leaving Geno to rub himself off alone—Sid chose Geno.</p><p>"Okay," Sid had said, shuffling closer in the bed to kiss Geno. "I'll do it."</p><p>Now, kneeling on the cold rubber floor with Geno's ass cheeks cupped in his hands, Sid couldn't remember why he ever thought this was a bad idea. The heady smell of omega arousal filled his nostrils and settled in the back of his throat, making his mouth water.</p><p>Geno cried out when Sid dove in, hips twitching against the sudden sensation of Sid's mouth on him. Sid rubbed the flat of his tongue against Geno's smooth hole. He could feel the wetness painting his cheeks and chin, catching in his scraggly beard. If he weren't in heat, Geno would complain about the scratching. Sid would retort—Geno certainly didn't seem to mind <i>why</i> he had to grow a beard, a playoff tradition.</p><p>Fully in heat, desperate for Sid's knot inside him, Geno only pressed his face against the wall and sucked at the sleeve of his jersey. Nothing close to a complaint came out of his mouth—no words at all.</p><p>"I want to fuck you so bad," Sid whispered against Geno's hole like he was telling it directly. His dick pulsed inside his cup, and he winced at the unyielding resistance. "I want to knot you."</p><p>Geno made an approving sound, whining in the back of his throat.</p><p>Sid sat back enough to shakily untie his own breezers and ease his jock down. It was just enough to get the pressure off his own dick so he could return to his job of getting Geno off.</p><p>"If we had time, I would," Sid said, pressing an open-mouth kiss to Geno's hole. He rolled his tongue out, artlessly lapping at the heat-tender area and dipping just inside.</p><p>"Eight minute," Geno mumbled. Sid wasn't sure whether his heat-addled brain was suggesting that was long enough for a knot—it definitely wasn't.</p><p>"I <i>will</i>," Sid assured him, pulling back to rub the pad of his thumb against Geno's hole. "After. Give me one more good period, G, and I'll fuck you all night. You can sit on my knot while we drink champagne out of the—"</p><p>"Sid!" Geno cried, slapping his hand against the wall. He was right, of course. Sid had gotten carried away. It was never good to count on a win before it happened, and that went double for Stanley Cup wins.</p><p>"Either way," Sid amended. "I'm going to fuck you."</p><p>Geno made a guttural, desperate sound when Sid got back to work. Sid slipped two fingers inside and slotted his tongue between them, putting pressure on Geno both inside and out. It clearly did the job. Geno was reduced to lolling his face against the wall, twitching his hips, and moaning.</p><p>Sid relinquished his hold on Geno's hip, all effort to keep him from squirming abandoned, and reached around him instead. Geno cried out when he got an awkward grip on his dick, stroking it as best he could without sacrificing his tongue's rhythm. Sid was glad when Geno's hand came down to cover his, offering to take over stroking his cock so Sid could concentrate.</p><p>It didn't take a lot after that for Geno to get really loud and lock up. He always came fast in heat, facilitating multiple orgasms every time they fucked. Sid spread his fingers inside Geno, pressing them outward as much as he could to simulate the pressure of a knot while Geno sobbed in relief and spurted all over his hand.</p><p>It was temporary, the relief, but hopefully, it would be enough to last the period.</p><p>Sid sat back and wiped his mouth. His playoff beard was soaked with slick. He brought his jersey up to swipe it over his whole face before he thought about the fact that every player with a nose would smell Geno on him. Every alpha on the Predators would be able to sense Geno's heat in the fabric of Sid's jersey and <i>know</i> who he belonged to. A rush of pride coursed through Sid's veins, pulsing in his dick. Just one more period, he told it, trying to talk it down so he could return it to his cup. One more period and he could sink himself into Geno's sweet hole and stay there as long as he wanted.</p><p>Speaking of Geno, he looked a little shaky bending to pull up his base layers. Sid helped Geno get them up and stood, wobbling slightly on his skates after so long on his knees. Sid got Geno's breezers up, too, and settled them in place before he turned Geno around to face him.</p><p>Sid's heart sank. Geno didn’t just look shaky, he looked <i>gone</i>. His eyes were distant, locked onto something lightyears away, in a slack, heat-drunk expression. "You with me?" Sid asked. He didn't feel very hopeful about the answer.</p><p>"Yes," Geno said. Sid was surprised he answered at all, the way his voice sounded—absent. It was over. They had tried to hold it off, but Geno's heat was too strong. He was too far gone to play another period.</p><p>Sid cupped his hands around Geno's face, then leaned in to press a lingering kiss on his lips. As he pulled away, someone knocked on the door.</p><p>"Two minutes," a distorted voice called through the door. They had talked about this with the team, a warning just in case. Two minutes to dress and get Geno back onto the ice. That had been the idea, before, when they thought they could do it.</p><p>"G," Sid said very gently. "It's okay."</p><p>"Okay?" Geno asked distantly. He tugged on Sid's jersey and slotted their mouths together sloppily, a very unfocused kiss reinforcing the idea that he couldn't get back to the ice.</p><p>"You can stay in here. There's a couple of pads on the floor. It's not much, but if you take a nap—"</p><p>"Nap?" Geno asked, still groggy but struggling to understand.  </p><p>"You can sleep until I come back. Then we'll go somewhere. I'll give you what you need."</p><p>"No, that's not deal," Geno said. He sounded petulant and still a little slurry—like someone struggling to come back to waking from anesthesia. Sid knew the trainers would take one look at him and turn him around in the tunnel.</p><p>"G, it's okay. You've done a lot." It was an understatement. There were times in the playoffs when Geno had picked the whole team up and carried it forward himself, simply refusing to lose. "You got us here. You've done enough. Just sit this one out."</p><p>Geno's eyebrows drew together stubbornly as Sid spoke, determination replacing the vacant, faraway look in his eyes. "Fuck you, I'm not stop now. You need me."</p><p>Sid's laugh sobbed out of him, a meager expression of the huge emotions distilled from a short summer and a long season and the grueling fight of the playoffs. He knew precisely how Geno felt. One period away from skating the Stanley Cup in Nashville, someone would have to chain him to the floor to keep him off the ice.</p><p>"Yeah," Sid said, lifting Geno's jersey to tie his breezers. "You're right. I need you. So get your ass in gear."</p><p>Geno's eyes seemed to struggle to remain in focus. His forehead was shiny with sweat, and his lips were dry, but his mouth was set mulishly. Sid leaned in and pressed a final kiss onto Geno's frown, only to be broken up by a far more insistent pounding on the door.</p><p>"Lovebirds," Sully's voice called with no room for debate. "Time's up."</p><p>Sid tore himself away with a wry smile and tucked his own—still half-hard—dick back into its uncomfortable prison. One more period, he thought to himself as he waddled to the door with his knot glands sore and impatient. One more period to win everything.</p><p>Sid didn't think it violated Geno's superstitions to <i>imagine</i> knotting him in the gleaming presence of the Stanley Cup. As long as he didn't say it out loud. He clung tight to the vivid daydream as he gathered up his helmet and led the way back to the ice, all the motivation he needed to make sure they brought the Cup home again.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Written when I was afraid I needed to scrap the first thing I wrote for the fest and decided to switch gears. There were just so many good prompts! I could have written something for each of them, given time.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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